


The Whitechapel Game

by TheDogPotato



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:18:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDogPotato/pseuds/TheDogPotato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Kray's attack, Kent has become more worried in his everyday life. When the Whitechapel team are faced with an anonymous bomber ("The Great Game in Sherlock" style) Kent's fears may become reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Whitechapel fic and it was written as a response to a prompt in the Whitechapel Kinkmeme thread

Kent had become more careful since the Kray’s attack. At work he rarely took on jobs that involved him going out on his own. He was now very keen on going with anybody available. Even going with Mansell - who tended to be quite annoying in the long run and was sometimes more of a nuisance than a help for Kent when they went out on the job together - was a relief for Kent, because it meant he didn’t need to go alone.

At home he made sure his doors were always locked, and he was very careful of going out after it’d gone dark. His flatmates who had always known Kent to be shy and reserved were disappointed, but not surprised, when he’d started to decline their every offer of going out on a late night. He usually blamed it on the work, but in reality he’d become afraid.

Of course he’d always known that becoming a DC wasn’t the safest of choices, and that he’d have to take some risks, but he’d been so unprepared for the attack that it had made a bigger impact on him than he cared to admit.

Sometimes he laughed at himself, and almost found it ridiculous how paranoid he’d become of strangers getting close to him - especially when there weren’t many people out on the streets - but most of the time his new found paranoia was just the reality of his current state of mind.  
  
But Kent was devoted to his job, and every day he put on a brave face as he headed for work. There’d been dangerous situations since the Kray case and he hadn’t backed out of a single one of them. He usually found the much needed strength in his workmates, and even though job was were the danger was being at work was where he felt most secure.

Kent just hoped he would never find himself in a situation like that again, but sadly that wasn’t to be the case.

Recently an anonymous bomber had started targeting seemingly random people around London. The entire office were buzzing with the new big case, but today the there was a sad feeling to it. When Kent arrived at work he didn’t even have time to put his things by the desk before he was approached by the DI.  
  
“We solved the riddle overnight”

Kent had been right by his DI’s side over the last three riddles that had been supplied to them by their anonymous bomber. The bomber used hostage’s wearing explosive wests to bring him messages, and if they didn’t solve the riddles given to them on a phone that had been delivered to the office on time, the hostages would be blown up. Kent had been sent home yesterday to get some rest or at least that was the reason given to him. In reality Riley had quickly noticed how worried Kent had become after the attack and convinced the DI to give him a break from all the tension building from having a deadline. When Kent heard his DI’s words he sent him a small smile from the corner of his mouth, but the DI’s expression turned grim.

“She didn’t make it”

Wrinkles appeared on Kent’s face as he tried to understand what he’d just been told.

“But I thought you said…”

“She started to explain her attacker’s voice, and he blew her up,” Chandler explained.

Kent felt a flash of fear, but he pushed it aside. The DI wasn’t just making small talk; this was important information on their case. When the DI started talking again he glanced down at his notepad, and quickly grabbed it off his desk.

“The explosion killed her and 11 of her neighbours. It was made to look like a gas leak, but Miles and Riley are at the crime scene at this very moment. It hasn’t ended here though. Buchan’s theory on the 5 hostages is becoming more and more of a reality. We received a message with a picture of the River Thames, and I want you and Mansell to go take a look at it - see if you can find anything unusual,” Chandler informed him.

“Yes sir!” Kent said and turned to Mansell who was casually leaning back in his chair.

“Well come on then,” he said as he got up from the chair. Kent followed quickly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Kray's attack, Kent has become more worried in his everyday life. When the Whitechapel team are faced with an anonymous bomber ("The Great Game in Sherlock" style) Kent's fears may become reality.

When they arrived at the riverbank, Mansell suggested that they split up so they could cover more ground faster. Kent wasn’t keen on admitting his fears to anyone of the team and intended to keep them close to heart for as long as possible, and if there was anyone he really didn’t want to admit it to, it would be Mansell.  
  
Mansell was a great guy, but he certainly wasn’t the most understanding bloke, and Kent felt too bad about his fears to let Mansell ridicule them. He remembered the supposedly haunted house all too well. Mansell had laughed at him when he’d let his psychic aunt’s tales influence him too much. So even though his heart sank at the suggestion, he shrugged his shoulders trying to look nonchalant like it didn’t matter. Luckily for Kent, Mansell wasn’t the best at reading people either, so he just pointed in the direction he was going to go, and let Kent survey the other side of the river bank.

As Kent’s gaze fell over the water of the Thames, he worried what they’d find there. One of the last times they were down by the Thames, severed body parts had been the “Where’s Wally” of the day, and he’d rather they didn’t find anything that had had a mind of its own once.

Walking alongside the river Kent soon became tired of inspecting other people’s garbage. As they had no idea exactly what they were looking for, he had to look at every piece of paper, plastic and old cans he came across. He suspected it would be much more obvious when they actually did find what they were searching for, but he didn’t want to overlook anything.

On top of the very mundane search besides the Thames which seemed to go on and on, Kent constantly found himself looking up at the faintest sound that could indicate that a person was nearby. It wasn’t something he consciously did, but he’d come to feel as though he was someone’s prey, and he had to make sure no one would surprise him like that ever again.

He was so deep in thought that he almost jumped when his mobile rang. It was Mansell.

“I found a body. I think it’s our subject. I already called the others. Hurry back”

Kent didn’t even have time to answer before the call was over, but he quickly turned around to return to the other side. Of course it had to be a corpse.

When he met up with Mansell again, DI Chandler and Doctor Llewellyn had already arrived. Kent had been running and was almost out of breath. He stopped in front of Mansell and rested with his hands on his legs, but when the DI turned looked towards him to acknowledge he was there, he quickly regained a good posture. The DI turned away listening to something Dr Llewellyn was telling him. He heard a snicker from Mansell who was standing just behind him.

“Shut up!” Kent shot him a glare, but Mansell just laughed. Kent rolled his eyes at him, and proceeded to ask about what they’d found out so far. Mansell told him that the man had been in the water for 24 hours, and that he’d died from asphyxiation.

“Kent, I have a job for you,” Chandler turned towards the DC.

“Sir!” Kent replied instantly.

“He was some sort of security guard," Chandler said looking down at the body. "There’s ticket stubs in his pockets so I want you to go back and find out everything you can on any guards of museums or galleries or something like that who may have gone missing in the past 24 hours. That way we may identify him”

“Yes sir!”

The ride back to the station went smoothly and when he arrived back at the station Miles and Riley were there as well which gave him a strong sense of security. He greeted them and sat down trying to find anything that could give a clue as to who the man was. Alex Woodbridge who was an attendant at the Hickman Gallery turned out to have been missing for about the same amount of time as the man by the river was estimated dead. He called Chandler and reported what he’d found out, and was given the order to research the man’s background to see if there could be any reason why someone wanted him dead at all.  
  
Shortly after, Chandler and Mansell returned to the office. Chandler started to string all the information they’d gotten together, and Mansell was asked to research the Hickman Gallery. They were all making progress with research and theories, and everything seemed to go its usual course, though the deadline was still growing nearer, and Kent noticed a worried look on the DI’s face. He’d kept quiet about how much time they’d been given to solve the riddle this time around, but they’d had less and less time to solve the past riddles so they couldn’t have much time left.

All of a sudden Mansell shouted at the DI. He’d found a possible motive for the murder. The Hickman Gallery had recently put a Vermeer painting for sale for 30 million pounds, but if it was a fake and the guard knew anything about it, it wouldn't be good for their sale if he was to reveal that information. The team discussed the theory and they all agreed that it was a possibility, and since it was the only clue they had at the moment, they felt like they had to take the chance. If it really was the case, the only thing they would have to do was to discover how you could recognise the painting as a fake, and if they did find anything it was almost certain the case.

There was no doubt that Chandler was the one who knew most about art and therefore he and Miles were the ones to go to the museum to check it out, while the others were ordered to be ready to get a patrol out in case they got it right and were allowed to free the current hostage.

The three DCs sat in silence and worked on the case. If they’d gotten it wrong they needed a backup motive for the kill. Luckily for them all, Miles rang half an hour later.

“The boss is a genius! He cracked the case! There was a supernova on the painting which hadn’t appeared on the sky until 200 years after the original was painted! We have the address of the victim!”

When the hostage had been safely freed, and the working day ended, they all felt relieved. If Buchan’s theory was anything to go by, there would only be one case left now. If they all put their mind to it, it might finally be over. Riley promised to have the phone by her side and to contact the others if she received a new case, and they all went home to get a well-deserved rest.

As Kent made the journey back home he realised how much he’d come to appreciate the Vespa. Being on the road surrounded by cars felt much less threatening than walking the streets with people all around.

When he arrived home to the flat, he saw that the lights were on in his apartment. He’d really started to depend on the company of people he trusted since the attack, so seeing that his mates had decided that the past three days of going out drinking was enough and actually stayed in for once made him very happy.

He locked the Vespa and turned to walk towards the building when he heard footsteps behind him. His heart sank as he glanced behind. In the scarce light of dusk, he couldn’t see anything. His heartbeat got faster and his breathing became more rapid. He tried to tell himself that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of, that he was making stuff up, that it was probably someone walking their dog, that he was silly for being so paranoid, that he should be ashamed of feeling such irrational fear, and then he was knocked to the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Kray's attack, Kent has become more worried in his everyday life. When the Whitechapel team are faced with an anonymous bomber (The Great Game in Sherlock style) Kent's fears may become reality.

Darkness

His mind was blurry when he regained his senses. He felt a searing pain in the side of the head, most likely where he’d been hit before everything had become black. He was sat straight up in some sort of chair and he felt restricted though he couldn’t feel any bonds on his hands or feet. He had something heavy and big placed around his torso, which felt like a life vest, but he couldn’t register what it was. He quickly found that his eyes were useless in the dark room where the only source of light came from some red dots that looked like standby lights on the ceiling. But even without his sight, it wasn’t hard for him to tell that he was somewhere with a lot of old and dusty paper. This lead to the thought of libraries, storage rooms or really tight packed offices.

But Kent wasn’t just going to sit there. There was no sound to indicate that anyone was nearby, so he grabbed the chance to stand up and get out of there while he still could - but he couldn’t. With the slightest tilt of his head, he was about to lose his balance. The pain in his temple, which had receded a bit, returned along with a wave of nausea, and Kent gently placed his head back in the former position. Know he knew why he wasn’t even tied up. He’d gotten a concussion, and didn’t even have the ability to stand up.  
  
This was it. There were no more actions he could take to keep himself from going crazy over the situation. Nothing in the dark he could study to keep himself occupied. He was now trapped in an unknown location with no way to move around and nothing but himself and his own thoughts as company. It didn’t take long before panic hit him.

The panic and fear that had been present ever since the Kray’s attack build up inside him. Tears welled up in his eyes, though he shut them tightly together trying to remain calm, but the warm tears were burning to get out, and soon they fell down his cheeks in a continuing stream. It still wasn’t enough to let out the anxiety. He let out a scream of fear, but he couldn’t maintain it for long, as the air was starting to feel thick and dry. His breathing was out of control, and he felt like he was choking on the air present in the claustrophobic space he was in. He could swear he was going to faint at any given moment - and then the lights came on.

“Oh you _are_ fun!” a light voice came from the other side of the room. “But then again. I knew you would be, when I saw you down by the Thames!”

Though the tear flow hadn’t stopped and his breathing was still rapid, his alertness to the danger, lurking just behind a row of shelves filled with files, substituted some of the anxiety he felt. Wait, files? Those were Buchan’s files. He was at the station?

Shoes against the floor. The capturer lurked somewhere in the maze of papers, notes and folders.

“Are you sitting comfortably?” the voice rang out, like the capturer had invited Kent home for tea and wanted to be sure that everything was okay.

Kent wanted to yell at him, but his physical and psychological state would only allow him to try and catch his breath while he desperately tried to hold back the tears.

A tall thin figure appeared in the same row as the DC was seated. The man was smiling sadistically from ear to ear as he studied his prey. His dark eyes sank into his face, and the yellow light from the lamps gave his skin a sickly colour. Kent caught him staring at his chest, and remembered the life vest he was supposedly wearing. It didn’t bring him any comfort to find it was the same kind of bomb the previous victims of the anonymous bomber had been wearing.  
  
“… you?” he managed to say between breaths. He didn’t even know what else to say. He’d been targeted? Why had he seen him down by the Thames? Why had he caught him and placed him at the station?

The man made a disappointed grimace.

“Oh, I’d hoped you’d been cleverer than that, Bambi,” he told him. “You never notice the bad guys hanging around at the office, do you?”

The condescending term made Kent’s heart flash with hate, although he didn’t know what the man was talking about. With all the interrogations and people coming in and out of the station on different errands he could’ve easily just been a face in the crowd - spying on him?

“We’re just arranging a little surprise for your DI. Nothing like a good surprise is there?”  
  
With the mention of Chandler, the DC regained his normal breath. His mind became clearer as he focused on what the capturer was going to say next.  
  
The tall man let out a childish chuckle.

“What an easy way to draw your attention. Does your boss know that? Does he know how much you care for him? How longingly you seek his approval? The adoration you show him every day?”

Kent shuffled uncomfortably beneath the weight of the bomb. With the explosives around his torso, he’d gone from having little to no chance of escaping, but he wanted to run. He’d never discussed his feelings for his superior with anyone. Never. He felt exposed, and he couldn’t even begin to fathom why this anonymous bomber would even care for that. How did he know?

“Oh it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduct that, little deer,” in a calm pace he made his way over to the DC. “But don’t take this personally. It’s the DI I want to see dance,” he now towered over the young man who avoided moving his head too much while still gaining eye contact with the bomber. “You’re just a pawn in the Whitechapel Game, and I think your sacrifice will be all I need to win this game. Now, put out your hand.”

Kent returned the request with a glare. He was in a dilemma. On one side his fears were running wild, on the other side he now felt strength in his morals. He wasn’t going to play a pawn in a game against his friends. Against Chandler.

“Oh don’t be silly. I’m sure you’ve noticed the bomb strapped to that lean upper body of yours, and I’m also quite sure that you’d mind if it went off and the dear colleagues of yours upstairs blew up along with you. I think DC Riley and DI Chandler are in so far, but I’m sure the others are right on their way. Probably wondering why there’s no picture accompanying the latest case. How unusual. Well there will be in a moment.”

Kent stretched out his hand in defeat; what could he do anyway? The man placed a phone in his hand; it was already in the middle of a call. When Kent looked up again, the man was holding up another phone.

“You should get some rest, so you’ll be ready for your nice date with the DI. Don’t turn the phone off, do as I tell you to, don't say anything unless I told you to, and do not try anything funny. I guess you can deduct what will happen if you do,” he smiled and gave a small nod towards the vest, before he turned on his heel and walked down the aisle. Just before he turned round the corner, he looked back at the DC.

“Oh yeah… about that picture,” he said, and the flash on the phone went off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story takes place in a different point of view and I hope the rest of the team were portrayed alright.

The Whitechapel team were gathered in the incident room. Chandler was pacing back and forth holding the phone, they’d been sent by the bomber, in his hands while studying the latest message trying to get anything from it, they hadn’t already thought of.

Miles was busying himself writing the few known details and theories of their latest case on the whiteboard. Mansell was sat with his head in his hands on the table trying to keep himself from falling asleep, and Riley was trying to call Kent since he hadn’t come in yet and none of them had been able to reach him. Buchan wasn’t there yet, as he’d promised to bring coffee in since they’d be there all night for sure.

Chandler let out a sigh as he ran his hand over his face and turned around to walk the other way. He looked over at Riley.

“Have you heard anything from Kent yet?” he asked Riley as a distraction from the case.

“Poor lad is still not answering his phone. He did look really nervous when he left from work today. I think he needs the break!”

“Well he can’t keep getting benefits just cause some lunatic made his buttocks hurt months ago can he? I’m exhausted!” Mansell contributed. “And when’s that coffee coming?”

Riley crossed her arms and raised her brows as she looked in his direction, and Mansell rolled his eyes and returned to stare into space.

“Try again! It’s the last of the cases. We need every man here. Maybe he knows what this means,” Chandler said referring to the message on the phone.

The four other cases had consisted of pictures which had led them to the case they had to solve or the crime scene, and they’d also been contacted by the victims who were dictated by the anonymous bomber, but this time all they’d gotten was a text message which read:

_“Below ground level. 1 hour. No time limit.”_

The team had tried to decipher the message. They figured that the mention of no time limit referred to the fact that they’d had a deadline for all of the past cases, but they couldn’t find out what the hour was referring to if that was true, and if the hour was the deadline, they’d have a serious problem, cause it had taken most of that hour for the team to arrive at the station after Riley had informed them of the incoming message. That left them with the _“below ground level”_ and the best guess they had so far was that the crime scene had to be in a cellar of some sort. As they didn’t have any possibility of searching every cellar in London during the next 5 minutes, which had been 15 since they’d decided it, they were just brainstorming, but the lack of caffeine made everyone slow and tired and they weren’t getting anywhere.

Riley put the phone down with a sigh and shook her head. Mansell was about to make a comment when the phone in the DI’s hand made a noise.

Chandler quickly opened the message and in horror he looked up at Riley. The rest of the team was alert.  
  
“What is it?” Miles asked stepping closer to the DI.

“I know why Kent isn’t answering his phone,” Chandler stated handing the phone to Miles. He covered his mouth while he started pacing again. Riley and Mansell quickly gathered around Miles to get a look at the phone.  
  
The picture that had flashed up on the phone showed Kent sitting in a chair wearing an explosive vest. He looked pale and frightened and his eyes were puffy from crying. There was a streak of dried blood running from his temple down his face. The blood was smeared on one side of his shirt and it had clotted some of his curly hair together. But DC Riley was the first to notice his surroundings, while the others were clearly focused on the state of their fellow DC.

“It’s the archives!”

“He’s here?” Mansell said in surprise. The phone started buzzing when they received a new text.

“Boss. It’s for you,” Miles said grimly as he handed Chandler the phone. Chandler looked from Riley to Miles, as he accepted the phone.

_“The hour’s up. The DC has had his beauty sleep and he is ready to see you, DI. All you need to do is go see him. Alone. Ten minutes.”_

“Right! We need to evacuate this building right away!” Miles said taking charge as soon as he saw Chandler hesitating. “Then we’ll figure out to do once we’re a safe distance away from here.”

Mansell and Riley obeyed, but Chandler grabbed Miles’s shoulder before he could go anywhere.

“Well we already know what to do,” he said.

“You’re not seriously suggesting that we listen to the mad man? He’s just going to blow you up as well. Let’s not take that chance,” Miles shoved the DI’s hand off his shoulder. “Call every officer! We have a hostage situation and it needs to be dealt with immediately. Evacuate!” he barked.

Chandler looked around as the others ran around the room following the DS’s orders. No they were the wrong orders.

“Will you all just stop for a second?” They did - reluctantly.

“You can’t really think of abandoning Kent like that can you?” the DI looked disgusted at his team.

“It’s best not to bargain with the bad guy,” Mansell said.

“Especially not when it puts your life in danger as well. We all want to save Kent, but if you go down there you’ll put your life on the line as well,” Riley said.

“It’s obviously you he’s after,” Miles added.

“But why didn’t he just target me then?” Chandler raised his voice. He felt stressed. And now he felt guilty as well. Was he really the reason Kent was in this predicament? It was obvious that he needed to go save the young DC, so why were they against him? Had they even looked at the photograph? Did they even see him? How vulnerable he was?

“Some sort of power-game to get to you, I don’t know!” Miles shouted back.  
  
Chandler straightened his tie. He needed order. He checked his cuffs. Order. Something. Why weren’t they listening to him? He had to regain order.

“I’m in charge here and you all listen to me now! Evacuate the building, contact every available officer, be ready, but do not interfere unless I tell you to. We have less than 5 minutes before the newly given deadline, and there is nothing we can do to save him in that time unless I go down there, and I am not going to risk his life, so you just do as I tell you!” Chandler glowed with rage as he shouted his orders. He was mad, but not at the team. He wanted to get to the bastard who had dared choose the most vulnerable on the team in a sort game against him.

The others looked down. None of them had talked against Chandler to risk Kent’s life but rather to avoid risking Chandler’s life as well, but he’d made his point, and soon they continued the evacuation but with a different purpose this time. They all followed Chandler’s order and were soon out on the streets making phone calls and directing any civilian they spotted away from there.

The DI, however, made his way downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

The lights in the archive were out when Chandler reached the room. He hesitated to turn on the light fearing what he might encounter in the room, but as the lights came on there was nothing to see.

Walking around the maze that the archives had become, he quickly picked up the sound of troubled breathing, and walked in that direction to find his DC in the exact same state as the photo, only he was wearing a smug grin.  
  
“So you finally chose to turn up, huh? It was so close to the deadline even. You _really_ had me worried there. Was it the old man holding you back?” he taunted. Chandler confusedly let his guard down for a second; the second, it took him to realise that Kent was being dictated by the bomber, same way as everyone else on this case.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Kent kept repeating the words the bomber fed him, even though he wanted to speak to Chandler in his own words. To tell him to get out of there - to go somewhere safe. The detonator was far away in the bomber’s hands and there was no way that it would be beneficial for anyone for Chandler to be there with him. He was just putting his own life at risk as well. Kent just hoped that the others weren’t doing the same.

“Why are you only speaking through people? Why is being anonymous so important to you?” Chandler was looking directly at Kent wanting to talk to him, but instead he felt he had to talk through him.

“Oh you really want to see me? Well I’ll see what I can do,” Kent’s tone of voice had gotten very monotonous and he didn’t talk with as much force now. Chandler figured his way of speaking wasn’t being instructed anymore. “In the mean time we can play a game where you tell me what to make your pet say next?” Kent paused averting his gaze from Chandler’s eyes. Chandler stared angrily at the phone, not knowing where to direct his anger. “Should I make him admit his feelings for you? In what manner? Longingly? Romantic?...”

“ **STOP!** ” Chandler easily recognised the discomfort and shame in his DC’s face and couldn’t bear it, even though some part of him had gotten curious - wanting him to go on. The DC went quiet and kept his gaze on the floor, his face blushing vividly. Chandler feared for a second that it was Kent and not the bomber who had obeyed his order, but then a light voice was heard:

“Oh, I was just beginning to like where it was going,” the bomber had stepped into the room. "Weren't you?"

Chandler quickly took in the man's features; he was tall and thin, had dark hair that was slicked back, and he was wearing a black suit. He introduced himself: “James Murtagh, _hiii_!”

Chandler quickly withdrew a pistol and pointed it at Murtagh.  
  
“A ta ta ta,” he said holding up the detonator. “You don’t want to do that!”

The DI quickly glanced at the vest on Kent’s heaving chest and back at Murtagh.

“Oh I know “you’re here as well” and “you’ll be blown up too”. Well guess what - I DON’T CARE! You don’t think I’d have wandered down here with a half thought up plan did you? With all the work I put into that little game of ours. Chances are just that you and the Bambi just deem each other’s lives much more important than I do mine, so I think I’ll take the chance. Otherwise you’ll really surprise me, Joe. What a way to end the game!”  
  
He casually stepped past the DI knowing fully well that his speech had made the desired impression, and stepped in front of Kent who silently watched his every move. As he turned to see the DI, he noticed how much he’d tensed up as he’d gotten closer to the DC.

“Aww, you don’t have to worry about him. He’s only hurt a little,” he smirked, as he entwined his fingers in the now more or less untamed curls on Kent’s head. Kent flinched in pain, as his head was jerked to the side when Murtagh tightened his grip. Chandler still pointed the gun at Murtagh even though it was dreadfully purposeless now.  
  
Kent kept his eyes on the detonator for now. Murtagh was almost playing with it, very aware of it.

“Well Joe, I figured giving you all that extra time during the cases you must have found out who I am by now, hm?”

“You’re the one who is responsible for the copycats, I don’t know how. It’s like you’ve been setting up real life plays”

“And you’ve been given the lead role, dear protagonist. Don’t you feel blessed?” He let go of Kent’s hair. The conversation distracted him, and when Kent regained a comfortable pose, he noticed how the conversation was distracting him from the detonator as well. Now he simply held it loosely in his hands. ”But while our game has been so much fun, you have now started to bore me, so I figured it was the time for a change of cast, and what better way to go out than with a bang? Don’t you agree?”

As he made the notion to leave, Kent quickly grabbed his wrist with all his strength, forcing him to drop the detonator. He caught it safely, but Murtagh turned to Kent - a gun in his hands. There were more ways than one to make the bomb go off. Chandler didn’t waste his time. As soon as he saw the immediate threat of the bomb disappear he tackled Murtagh, bringing him to the floor. He pried the gun out of his hands and put it on the ground before restricting his arms movements. Then he called for backup.

Miles and Mansell were quickly there to take care of Murtagh. As they followed him out of the door, Chandler straightened his shirt and tie and looked at the DC.

“Riley is sending a bomb squad down here, and the paramedics will also be here soon. It’s going to be okay,” he informed him. The rush of adrenaline hadn’t settled yet, but there was something else making his heart beat faster as he looked at the DC. He didn’t dare ask, but what if it was true? What if the DC really did have feelings for him? He heard people making their way downstairs.

“Um, so I better be… uh,” he pointed at the door, but before he could go, Kent grabbed a fistful of his sleeve.

“Please sir, would you just stay with me?” He knew it was wrong and childish to ask of him, but after tonight’s events he didn’t care. Chandler felt a wave of joy. Maybe, just maybe it hadn’t only been the bomber talking. He took Kent’s outstretched hand in his own, and, smiling a little too brightly, he answered: “Of course I would!”


End file.
